


Oikawa's Booty Shorts and Iwaizumi's Problem

by PotatoButt



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: M/M, awkward teenage boys lol, booty shorts, handjobs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-23
Updated: 2015-02-23
Packaged: 2018-03-14 19:50:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,445
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3423455
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PotatoButt/pseuds/PotatoButt
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Hajime believed he was a good person. He tried to do good deeds, like helping an elderly woman with groceries or holding the door open for others. In his mind, he racked up some good karma. He thought of this every time Oikawa did something that would make his eye twitch. He was a good person; he didn’t deserve this."</p><p>Or, </p><p>Oikawa is a huge tease.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Oikawa's Booty Shorts and Iwaizumi's Problem

Hajime believed he was a good person. He tried to do good deeds, like helping an elderly woman with groceries or holding the door open for others. In his mind, he racked up some good karma. He thought of this every time Oikawa did something that would make his eye twitch. He was a good person; he didn’t deserve this.

That is exactly what Hajime was thinking when Oikawa dressed for practice one afternoon, pulling on what looked like the shortest shorts that Hajime had ever seen on another dude. He’d seen photos of models wearing tiny shorts that showed off their butts, but they had always been girls. Hajime just gawked at him, struggling to think of any cutting words to shoot at his friend. He looked, oh god he looked, at Oikawa’s ass. He couldn’t help it. Oikawa’s shorts were short enough that the very bottom of his cheeks were showing.

To make matters worse, no one else seemed to notice or care. Oikawa’s ass was distracting, and Hajime found it hard to focus during practice. When they changed after, Hajime said something. “The hell is with those shorts, trashykawa?” Hajime pulled his shirt off. He’d felt too hot all practice.

Oikawa was humming, “Oh?” He looked down, as if he forgot he was even wearing such ridiculous shorts. “They allow for more movement, Iwa-chan! You should try it sometime.” Oikawa stuck out his tongue.

“Absolutely not.” Hajime frowned at him darkly. He couldn’t help but steal once last glance before Oikawa changed clothes.

Hajime couldn’t stop thinking about those damn shorts.

A week later Oikawa had a new pair of shorts, and much to Hajime’s horror, these were more of a spandex-type, similar to girl’s volleyball shorts. Hajime found himself staring, wondering why Oikawa had such a nice ass for a guy. Hajime was horrified with himself.

Hajime was even more horrified when, during practice, Oikawa bent over to pick up a ball, giving Hajime probably the most obscene view of his ass possible. Hajime’s whole body heated up, but specifically his groin. Hajime didn’t quite understand that. His mouth felt dry as he watched Oikawa slightly tug up those shorts, making them ride up a little.

And, holy shit, Hajime was not about to get a boner over that, over his best friend in some horrible, terrible, trashy shorts. He quickly turned away and started thinking of anything that wasn’t Oikawa’s ass. He managed to live through practice.

Later, at home in his shower, Hajime was touching himself like any other teenage boy would. That was normal. He was leaning against the shower wall, the spray of water hitting the back of his shoulders while he hand worked him over. He wasn’t really thinking of anything in particular, until the image of Oikawa’s ass popped into his head. It was the horribly alluring vision of him bent over, tight shorts obscenely outlining every shape of the intimate parts of him. Sure, it was a little exaggerated by Hajime’s imagination, but it was still the vision of Oikawa’s ass.

Hajime came with a silent sigh, but shame and confusion rushed through him when his head cleared. “Oh fuck… Fuck…” He looked at his hand as the water rinsed his hand of his cum. He’d just jacked off thinking of his best friend’s stupid ass. He quickly got out of the shower, feeling weird. Damn Oikawa and his shorts.

Hajime had trouble sleeping that night.

Oikawa kept wearing short-shorts to practice, but he generally stuck to the looser kind. Hajime could deal with those. His eyes lingered too long and he felt hot, but he could manage. Some practices he would have to suffer through having a half-hard dick, but it wouldn’t be the first time that Hajime had ever gotten an inconvenient semi-erection.

What really bothered Hajime was the images that plagued his mind every time he jacked off. The images proved to get more and more vivid, more obscene and realistic. Hajime had even accidentally imagined taking off those shorts with his own hands. He was sure his orgasm had been more intense, that time.

Hajime found himself on edge around Oikawa, feeling awkward and confused. Thankfully, Oikawa didn’t seem to really notice, or if he did, he was hiding it well. He was too busy with other things, Hajime guessed.

Then, all of Hajime’s good karma seemed to have run out. Oikawa was wearing those tight shorts again, thin gray spandex-like material clinging perfectly to everything. Hajime doubted Oikawa was even wearing underwear. Hajime’s gut twisted as his body heat tried to run south. Oikawa was horrible, terrible.

They were practicing serving, and Hajime was in line behind Oikawa. Of course, Oikawa did his usual jump serve, and Hajime watched, regrettably, how Oikawa’s ass jiggled ever so slightly when he landed on his feet. Hajime served as well as he could after that.

“Hey, Iwa-chan, can I come over tonight?” Oikawa asked as they were stretching when practice was over.

Hajime wanted to say no, but he couldn’t. “Sure.” Oikawa hardly even had to ask; Hajime’s parents absolutely loved him and were always happy to see him in their home. When they changed after, Hajime didn’t look at Oikawa, not sure that he could handle watching him undress. He felt too hot, and he knew he was a little hard, but he tried to desperately think of turn offs.

On their walk home, Hajime felt off balance. Oikawa was humming beside him like nothing was odd. They ate dinner with Hajime’s parents and then went up to his bedroom. Oikawa set his bag down, flopping on Hajime’s bed like it was his own. He was wearing his volleyball sweatpants and jacket, and Hajime found himself thanking the gods that those sweatpants were loose.

“Do you wanna play a game or something?” Hajime asked, sitting on the edge of the bed beside Oikawa’s knees. Hajime had changed back into his school uniform after practice.

Oikawa stretched, and his t-shirt inched up a little, exposing his lower abs. Hajime swallowed. “Maybe later.” Oikawa sat up, looking at Hajime. His lips were pursed, but his eyes looked mischievous. It suddenly made Hajime feel a little nervous, and that had never happened before. Oikawa didn’t make him nervous; Oikawa made him irritated.

“What…?” Hajime managed, hoping he was giving Oikawa a ‘fuck off’ look.

“You’ve been being weird lately, Iwa-chan. I’ve noticed.” Oikawa says plainly, a playful and teasing tone in his voice.

Hajime narrows his eyes, “What are you talking about?”

Suddenly, Hajime felt like Oikawa was too close. Oikawa leaned forward a little, licking his lips. “You seem tense. I’m just looking out for my dearest friend.” Oikawa flounders a hand, “That, and I can’t have you dragging down the team by being weird.”

Hajime blanched, “I’m not the one being weird, you dumb ass! You’re the one who-,” Hajime shut his mouth, feeling his stomach flip upside down.

Oikawa gave him an innocent look. “What?”

“No, shut up, I hate you.” Hajime snapped, crossing his arms. He was aware that he was blushing, ridiculously. His neck was hot.

“You don’t hate me Iwa-chan.” Oikawa almost giggled.

“I really do. You’re the worst.”

“Why? I can’t be the worst for no reason.” Oikawa was taunting Hajime mercilessly.

Hajime growled in frustration, “It’s you and your stupid shorts, fuck.” He slapped a hand to his face. Hajime wasn’t sure who was going to die first; him of embarrassment or Oikawa by murder.

“My shorts.” Oikawa repeated. Hajime refused to look at him. Hajime felt the weight on the bed shift, and Oikawa’s voice was suddenly low and sultry in his ear, making him jump. “What about my shorts, Iwa-chan?”

Oikawa’s tone undid every strand of sanity in Hajime’s body. “They’re too short.” He managed to say. Hajime wasn’t enjoying the way Oikawa was looking at him, reading him. He felt naked. “They’re too short, and I can’t stop thinking about your ass.” He expected Oikawa to laugh.

“Iwa-chan,” Hajime didn’t look at him. “Iwa-chan! Iwa-chan,” Oikawa reached over, grabbing Hajime’s face, forcing him to look at him.

“What?” Hajime asked, frowning at Oikawa the best he could manage.

Oikawa leaned close, still holding Hajime’s face. Hajime stopped breathing. “I wanted you to notice.” His voice was doing that low seductive thing again, as if Hajime needed to be seduced.

“Why…?” Hajime didn’t really understand, but the way that Oikawa was talking to him was doing horrible things to his groin.

“I like you, Iwa-chan. And I know you like me.” Oikawa’s brown eyes were warm and his eyelids were low. Hajime swallowed. The last statement had almost sounded like a question.

“I don’t know why I like someone as terrible as you, shittykawa.” Hajime huffed. He felt less gross and weird then. He didn’t know why he’d let himself get so worked up over being into Oikawa.

“I’m a national treasure.” Oikawa said confidently. Hajime rolled his eyes. They awkwardly sat there, looking at each other, Oikawa’s hands on Hajime’s cheeks. “Iwa-chan, can I kiss you?”

Hajime blushed, which made him feel a little lame, “You didn’t have to ask.” Hajime saw the rare look of mild insecurity flash over Oikawa’s features as he leaned forward, eyes sliding closed as their lips touched. As soon as they were kissing, all of the tension unraveled. Hajime adjusted, hands coming to rest on Oikawa’s sides. Their kissing turned too heated too fast, but neither of them really minded. Oikawa’s tongue was in Hajime’s mouth, and nothing else really mattered.

Hajime pressed forward a little, and Oikawa tipped onto his back, pulling Hajime down on top of him. They were a little awkward, long limbs tangled together. They settled with Tooru’s legs spread around Hajime’s thighs. “Iwa-chan,” Oikawa gasped against Hajime’s lips.

“Are you really calling me ‘Iwa-chan’ right now?” Hajime interrupted, frowning. His arms were holding him up.

Oikawa rolled his eyes, “Okay, Hajime.” He paused, licking his lips. Hajime was surprised to see Oikawa seem so nervous.

Hajime touched Oikawa’s cheek. “You’re nervous.”

Oikawa blinked at Hajime, almost looking like he was surprised that Hajime had noticed. He blushed a little bit. “I… Just really like you.” He smiled, little and timid. Hajime’s heart totally melted as he leaned down to kiss Oikawa. Anything cutting he could have said slipped from his mind. Damn Oikawa. His hands slid up Oikawa’s torso, slightly bunching up his shirt.

Oikawa made a sort of excited sound, which sent a wave of arousal through Hajime, like flipping a switch. “Oikawa,” Hajime said, pulling away from Oikawa’s face. “Can… Can I touch you?”

“Yeah, hold on,” Oikawa was smiling again, looking mischievous like always. He eased Hajime back, and he moved to take off his jacket. Hajime’s mouth was dry, even though there wasn’t even anything inherently erotic about taking off a jacket. Then, Oikawa’s hands moved to the hem of his sweatpants. He slid them down his thighs and onto the floor, and all of Hajime’s blood went to his dick.

Oikawa was wearing those tight shorts underneath his sweatpants.

Hastily, Hajime pulled off his school coat, leaving him otherwise dressed. He didn’t care; he was dying to touch Oikawa. Their lips met as Oikawa’s legs trapped Hajime’s hips, tongue’s slipping messily against each other’s mouths. Hajime’s hand slid down, tentatively palming over Oikawa’s crotch. He was hard, and his hips arched instantly into Hajime’s hand. Hajime broke the kiss to look at what he was doing, eyes moving down to Oikawa’s lap. He could see his dick straining against the fabric. Slowly, Hajime’s fingers lifted the elastic waist band, pulling it down just enough to expose Oikawa’s dick. Hajime glanced up to Oikawa’s face; he was flushed, looking at what Hajime was doing with glossy eyes. When Hajime wrapped his fingers around Oikawa’s length and gave him a dry stroke, he watched as those eyes fluttered closed. The power trip was amazing.

After another moment, Oikawa’s hands were suddenly undoing Hajime’s pants, hand slipping into Hajime’s boxers without much flair. Hajime hadn’t really realized how hard he actually was until Oikawa’s fingers were around him, thumb rubbing over the head, slick with precum already. Nothing in his life, Hajime decided, had ever felt so good. So good, he’d almost forgotten about Oikawa in his own hand.

Hajime paused to lick his palm, giving a little more slipperiness to his touches. Oikawa exhaled loudly when his hand came back. The two of them were fairly quiet, only soft breaths or light hums coming from their mouths. Hajime had never done something like this, and he was sure that neither had Oikawa.

When Oikawa came, he gasped quietly, shaking as Hajime’s hand stroked him through it. Hajime watched it happen, watched the white fluid dribble over his knuckles and onto Oikawa’s t-shirt. He watched Oikawa’s face too, watched his eyes shut and his mouth hang open. It was too much. With a couple more strokes of Oikawa’s hand, Hajime fell into his orgasm, humming his moan with his mouth shut.

Hajime opened his eyes. He looked first at Oikawa’s face. Oikawa’s eyes were still closed, but he was smiling, and it was a pleasantly candid smile that made Hajime feel warm in his chest. Then he glanced down at the mess on their hands and laps, and somewhat grimaced. He reached to his bedside table for some tissues, starting to clean them up. At some point, Oikawa opened his eyes, watching as Hajime wiped the mess up.

When Hajime started to wipe off Oikawa’s hand, Oikawa sort of laughed, “Wow, Iwa-chan, such a gentleman.”

Hajime shot him an irritated look, tossing the tissues into the trash. “Shut up.” He got off of the bed, deciding to change out of his school clothes. He pulled on plain sweatpants and an old t-shirt, pulling out clean clothes from his dresser for Oikawa as well, since his had gotten dirty. When he handed Oikawa the clothes, he could practically see the sarcastic remarks itching to fly out of his mouth, but instead he just smiled.

When their dirty clothes were stuffed in the hamper, they settled on Hajime’s bed once more, lying on their sides, facing each other. Somehow, the world felt normal again. Which, it really wasn’t, Hajime thought, since he and his best friend just jacked each other off, but that was just a minor detail. Hajime supposed they were a couple now, or something like that.

He glanced at Oikawa, who was still pink-cheeked and glassy-eyed, and decided that maybe he did have some pretty good karma after all.


End file.
